


Of Gods and Magic

by Leonawriter



Category: Merlin (TV), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Pre-Thor (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:45:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonawriter/pseuds/Leonawriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout his life, Merlin has seen a strange man, watching from the sidelines.  A man of magic, who never stays in one place or station, who never tells him his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Gods and Magic

The first time they met, Merlin was still a young boy growing up with his mother, in Ealdor.  He was out in the wood, finding food and finding trouble, when the man appeared.

They both had similarly black hair, and pale complexion, but apart from that, they were as different as could be.  The man’s hair was slicked back, while Merlin’s stuck out at odd angles and had twigs and dirt in it, and Merlin had twigs and dirt in his clothes as well, which, while they had been clean that morning, weren’t any longer.  The man’s clothes were foreign, but well-made, and while they looked as though they’d slept in certainly didn’t look as bad.

Green eyes regarded the boy with amusement, and while Merlin stood stock still and ready to run at a moment’s notice, the man put a finger to his lips, and made a wide gesture to the fallen leaves on the forest floor.

Merlin’s eyes had been glued to the magic being enacted in front of him, and he forgot to run.  The leaves were dancing, forming patterns in the air as though they were smoke from a fire, but the patterns they formed made dragons and flowers and strange, strange creatures the likes of which Merlin had never before imagined.

There was a shout; the leaves fell and Merlin failed to quash the disappointment  in his heart.  Another sorcerer!  One who did magic, and was not afraid.  He looked instantly for the man, but found him vanished.

Some time later, Hunith found her son trying to make the leaves move, but he never told her of the man with the dark hair and bright green eyes.

...

The second time they met, Merlin was older, and had learned more lessons from his mother about how to not trust strangers.  That wasn’t to say that he’d learned them all, however, and this time, the man appeared while they were at market in the neighbouring town.

The man was juggling apples.  Every so often he’d accomplish a particularly difficult pass, and the small crowd that had gathered around would give a cheer.  Some, without the time to spare but knowing that they had more to give when some had only their wits to pay their way, dropped a coin or two on the ground in front of him, and all the while the man smiled, green eyes glinting with mischief.

Hunith scolded him for dawdling, and Merlin hurried himself along, following after his mother as they haggled for prices and bargained for the better of the goods that, as a mother and son without any father to work for them, they could afford.

It ended up being a long day, as market days always were, but by the time Merlin and Hunith were ready to leave, the man who had been juggling was still there, this time doing tricks with the coins that the richer market-goers had thrown at him.

The crowd was smaller, this time, hardly any people there as most had started for home already before the night came and it began to get cold.

But Merlin stayed.  Like before, with the leaves, he lost himself in the rhythm of the coins, and remembered how the man had juggled the apples earlier.

His mother told him to stay where he was, and to not wander off, and she started up a conversation with an old friend of hers who had married nearby.  Two heavyset men walked past him, talking loudly of their conquests, and by the time they had passed, the man was gone.

Merlin looked around, desperate.  Maybe if he had been able to keep watching, he would have seen where the stranger, the man who looked so similar to the sorcerer who he had seen years prior, had gone.  But no, he had vanished.  The crowd was leaving, still in high spirits, and he sighed, certain that events were conspiring against him.

“I believe you may be looking for me?”

He spun around, and-

There he was, sitting at the bench, head resting on a hand with his elbow on the table, that familiar amused look in his eyes.

“You- I’ve seen you before.  In...”  He hesitated.  “In the forest?”

It had been a long time.  Perhaps he was confused... the details might not be clear.  Yet the man was smiling.

“You remember me.  Good.”

As his surprise faded away, Merlin tilted his head with a slight frown.

“Who are you?”

“A being of magic.  Both like and unlike you.”  He glanced at Merlin’s odd expression of awe and wary suspicion, and then looked around, “You need not worry.  I will say nothing of you, and I have no fear for myself in this place.”

“How... how can you not be afraid?”  Merlin hissed.  “We’re so close to the borders of Camelot, and those who practice magic are killed for it.  Did you know that some men actually come across the borders to find sorcerers and bring them back, for a reward?”

Green eyes glittered coldly.

“I am aware.  A pity there is nothing to be done for it.”

A shiver travelled down Merlin’s spine at the words, said so easily, both with and without care.  Yet, for some reason he could not explain, he knew that he was in no danger.

“Still,” he said, “my mother always tells me you can’t ever be too careful.”

“A wise woman, your mother.  Perhaps one day we shall meet, she and I.”

And with that, without even leaving his name, the man left, disappearing without a trace – other than the coins he’d left on the table with Merlin, and one single apple.

...

The third time they met was in Camelot.

This time, the man was dressed much like a nobleman of the area, although the way he carried himself and the way he talked – not his accent, but the words he chose, the way he said things – made it obvious that he was not of the kingdom.

Merlin watched him closely every time that the man was spotted, to the point that Arthur started to accuse his manservant of falling for one of the nobles, and warned him off the idea.  Merlin simply rolled his eyes.

For the first time, it was Merlin who chose to come up to him first, darting glances to see who might be watching.

“Do you have _any idea_ where you are?  Or even what you’re doing?”

The man simply smiled, which only served to infuriate Merlin even more.

“Apparently, I am to be dining with milady Rhiannon.  I hear her cook is a fine one.”

“How- how did you even-?!”

The man laughed.

“You could say that I have a silver tongue.  Men will believe only what they wish to, and I am very good at spinning a tale.  I am used to a higher standard.  I admit to finding it amusing to be among the people now and then.”

Merlin stared, and then began to shake his head in disbelief.

“You’re impossible.  And- I don’t even know who you are!”

“Oh, but yes you do.  But you just aren’t ready to believe it yet.”

Merlin felt like hitting his head repeatedly against one of the many walls of the castle.  The harder the better.  Or maybe he could knock some sense into the familiar stranger, instead.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten instead, praying to any listening god to give him patience for nobles with no sense of self-preservation.

By the time he opened his eyes again, the man was gone.

...

Camelot was still recovering from Morgana’s second attempt at taking over the throne when Merlin saw him next.

In sharp contrast to his last appearance, the man was, while still dressed as a nobleman of high birth, moving through the injured and dying with medical supplies, directing both commoners and knights with equal authority.

His face was dirtied by ash and blood and dirt, hair sticking out from its usual place, and green eyes that Merlin had come to associate with mischief, amusement and magic had become withdrawn in order to deal with the state the castle and lower city were in.  In an instant, Merlin saw that he was much older than he had previously been drawn into believing.

And in that moment, he realised something else.

“How long have I known you?”

The man looked up, surprised as though he had not noticed Merlin there, and there appeared for a moment a ghost of a smile.

“Some years now.  Perhaps somewhat over ten.”  Merlin passed him a damp cloth to clean away at a particularly nasty wound that one of the maids had sustained.  “Years go by far too quickly sometimes.”

“And yet I’ve never seen you age.  Not one day older.”

“Call it a bad habit of mine,” the man said with a sideways smirk, although truly speaking he looked to Merlin’s now grown eyes barely older than Arthur.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, but the man – boy – whoever he was – continued to tend to the patient.

“Where did you learn to do that, anyway?  I was taught by Gaius, and he’s the court physician.”

The man paused, hesitating and deliberating his words.

“My brother likes to go out hunting and adventuring with his friends, and often takes me along.  I decided long ago that someone among us should know what to do if another were to be injured, but do not advertise the fact.  Healing... healing is considered a woman’s job, or an unfit occupation for one of actual rank.  Never mind that if I did not know what I do, my brother would be dead many times over, and we are a hard people to kill.”

It was the most he had ever heard of the man’s past, and it made Merlin feel somewhat awkward.

“I should be getting back to Gaius.  You, uh, seem to have things in hand here, so...”

The man nodded, and Merlin started backing away, sure that he heard something as he left.

“ _So many dead.  So many dying.  My daughter, do not resent me for keeping a few from your realm..._ ”

...

The last time they met, Arthur had renounced the ban on magic.

In the weeks that followed, many people came to the city to pledge their allegiance to Arthur, and their loyalty to Camelot, people who would have been executed otherwise, or too afraid, or forced to lie.  Druids had come.  As had others, hedge witches and warlocks and those with many and varied abilities.  People came forth from the city and from the surrounding countries, declaring themselves to the world – for many, the first time in their lives such a thing had been possible.

Merlin had found that Arthur, now that the King knew of his magic, was working him just as hard as he had before, only in different ways.

Merlin was the one who met with well over half of the magic users swarming to Camelot who were not people of distinction.  Merlin was the one who wrote the annals, kept the records, and made sure that they were all delivered safely to the chronicler once they were done with.  And because Arthur still had yet to hire a replacement manservant after the last one had been promoted to Court Sorcerer, Merlin still had to do all of his usual chores.  At least, he often found himself thinking, at least he could use magic to help things go by quicker.  And he wouldn’t have to worry about being caught.

About a month or two later, a man in unfamiliar armour rode confidently through the gates.  No one could tell where he could be from, but everyone agreed that he was neither from Camelot or indeed any of the surrounding regions.

Something about him was familiar to Merlin.

He was proven right when, during the man’s audience with King Arthur, he took off the horned helmet that had been covering his head, to reveal the man who had watched Merlin grow up.

Leaves dancing in not the slightest amount of wind, creating dragons and flowers and beasts.

Apples being juggled, and coins appearing and disappearing, swift of hand.

Chasing skirt and enjoying finery, as though he were no more understanding of a commoner than Arthur, when Merlin had first met the prat.

Tending to the injured and dying, saying prayers as so many souls departed.

His face was still the same, his green eyes flicked over to Merlin, customarily behind the King’s throne and ready to give counsel, mischief dancing in them as it always had.

“My knights tell me that you came in here demanding an audience with me, yet have told no one your name.  I would have it, and the kingdom you represent, in order to know with whom I am dealing.”

“I am Loki,” the man said, “son of an Odin not of your realm, and I wished to see the King so many have talked of.  I am not here to pledge my services to you, as there is only _one_ king that I would do that for.  However, you may have it be known that I would be your ally... as I have often been.”

Merlin’s mouth went dry.  He glanced over to where Gaius was, only to find his friend similarly struck by the revelation.

No wonder he had never revealed his name.

...

AN: The idea came to me and would not leave me alone when I looked through the Thor/Merlin crossovers on one site and realised that most of the ones I was seeing were either without regards to continuity (Loki isn’t a bad guy before _Thor_ , guys!) or just plain not my cup of tea.


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